


Just Kill Me Twice

by kaskaskia_dense



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Gender Issues, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Trans Character, idk what else i'll update this later its like midnight and im tired, pete's gonna explore more stuff about gender and stuff but that's later, whoo boy there's gonna be a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 09:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaskaskia_dense/pseuds/kaskaskia_dense
Summary: Pete's the new kid (again), Patrick's a bit (a lot) shy, and Mikey doesn't deserve to be this tall (and he doesn't deserve any of them, either).





	Just Kill Me Twice

**Author's Note:**

> let me LIVE okay i havent updated my other fic in a while bc i may have forgot about it AND writers block is the SHIT besides im too excited abt m a n i a to write anything but pete wentz being depressed so. here we are
> 
> also i know that gerard is a teacher in this and so is frank but then mikey's gonna be junior in high school which doesnt make any sense age wise but when i was thinking and writing i made it that way so let's just pretend that patrick and pete are the same age and mikey's a year younger than them and also waayyyyyy younger than gerard but still his sibling (geddit he's way younger. way. gerard and mikey way)
> 
> thank u and please enjoy!

“Where d’you think you’re going, princess?”

Pete whips around with a scowl, eyebrows thick and drawn as he recognizes the speaker—it’s some kid from 2nd period, Jason or Chad or Braden or something. And yeah, it’s been Pete’s third time as the new kid in a high school in the past year, so he’s used to this kind of thing, but it still gets on his nerves. Especially— _God, especially_ —the nicknames.

“I said,” ChadBradenJason growls again, “Where d’you think you’re going, princess?” Princess. Princess. _Princess. God, the nicknames._

“Lunch,” Pete responds with as much venom as he can muster while being 5’4. He tries to move to turn around and speed-walk back in the direction of the cafeteria, but JasonChadBraden takes his wrist and pulls him back against a nearby locker.

Pete tries his hardest not to groan with frustration—seriously, what about him makes him someone like BradenJasonChad’s first new target? Sure, he’s always eavesdropping on stage-whispered conversations that he’s meant to hear about how he wears more eyeliner than his mom, and how he’s never had a best friend since fourth grade, and how _hey, that’s the kid who’s been to boot camp, let’s ask him all about his experiences and if he’s ever been in a fight and all the tattoo’s he probably has and_ sometimes, Pete needs a pillow to punch which is why textbooks are way better to sleep on than read.

ChadJasonBraden is no different from any of the other guys in the past, but Pete’s just realizing that he forgot to takes his meds this morning and probably doesn’t have enough money to pay for lunch and he would really, really, _really_ not like another reason to be mad today. Which is why he’s ready to either slip under JasonBradenChad’s polo-shirted arms and scamper off to the back of the library (which has now become his new favorite hiding spot, seriously, those shelves are high) or pull a few punches of his own, literally, and—

Then there’s a teacher and some kid talking together down the hall, and on one hand Pete’s happy, because authority !! someone to get BradenChadJason in detention !! but on the other he’s panicking because authority !! someone to get Pete in detention, on his first day here, because that’s usually how it works in situations likes this.

Pete decides to take his chance and make some noise—he stomps his foot against the ground, kicks the locker behind him, whatever seems sort-of natural so that ChadBradenJason doesn’t think it’s anything suspicious—and it must work, because the teacher and the kid look up from their conversation and come running over.

“Cash,” and Pete internally groans—something he’s been doing a lot more of lately—because he didn’t get the name right but also, holy shit, that’s more preppy than he would’ve thought, “what are you doing to the new student?” 

Once the teacher gets closer, Pete recognizes him. It’s Mr. Way, his art teacher, who he thought seemed okay (if a bit creepy) and now seems like a superhero. The kid with him hasn’t been in any of Pete’s classes yet, at least not that he remembers. They both look angry and slightly confused, which is a strangely adorable look for the kid.

“Um—Mr, Way!—no, um, nothing’s going on, I just—“ Cash backs away and Pete’s definitely going to laugh about this in a couple years but now he just wants time to be relieved, and he’s also pretty hungry. As if on cue, his stomach growls, audibly enough for Mr. Way to gesture for the kid he was talking to earlier to take Pete to his office while he takes Cash by the arm and leads him down the hall, presumably to the principal’s office.

The silence is kind of awkward—after all, it’s probably not this kid’s average day, catching dickfaces in the act of their epic douchebaggery, though based on his quietness and expressions so far he must’ve encountered them before—while the two boys walk to Mr. Way’s office, up a floor or two. Pete blindly follows behind the kid, who obviously knows the ins and outs of the arts and language building, based on the way he moves his feet around every crack in the floor and every sharp turn and corner.

Who knows, this kid could be leading him to the school’s secret torture dungeon where they keep people like Pete and force them to learn about how capitalism is good, and Pete wouldn’t know because he’s kind of quick to trust people who manage to look cool in trucker hats. And hey, maybe Pete would be cool with that if this kid stayed with him.

“My…my name’s Patrick,” the kid finally says once they reach Mr. Way’s office door, which is covered with neon-colored art club notes and some paint splatters that don’t exactly smell like paint. Patrick has a stutter, and he’s looking down and wringing his fingers, which is, like, okay, Pete’s had friends like this before. Pete goes for his easy, friendliest smile and introduces himself with a handshake, which Patrick bristles at, but once they get into Mr. Way’s office Pete can see him blushing and the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“So, um. Do you guys have any food in here, or…?” Pete’s stomach is still churning and he doesn’t want to be a burden, he really doesn’t, but he’s also hungry and lunch must be ending pretty soon.

Patrick looks up, startled, and slowly shakes his head. “Yeah. We have, uh, yeah. There’s—there’s—there’s a little fridge next to Mr. Way’s desk.” Pete wonders if Mr. Way is just very friendly with all his students or if Patrick only hangs out with him because he has no friends. It’s not a good thought, he knows, but his brain hates him and it’s not like he can’t stop the Obscurity Expressway™ that his mind operates on, so.

There’s a half-eaten burrito that looks expired, a mysterious brown paper bag labeled, “property of the art department” in thick black sharpie, and at least two-dozen cans of apple juice. Nothing particularly appealing, at least to Pete’s very hungry taste buds, and he doesn’t really consider himself a picky eater.

Patrick seems to notice his dilemma, because he clears his throat and, when Pete turns around, holds up his lunch box.

“Um.” He’s blushing furiously, redder than that girl’s hair last period, and redder than all the fire trucks Pete’s ever seen pull up to his school. It’s absolutely adorable.

“Are you offering to share your lunch with me?” Pete can’t help but smile, because Goddamn, he really wants to be Patrick’s friend. Patrick nods, eyes wide, and he lets the smallest inch of a smile pass through his face before unzipping it and spreading its contents of Mr. Way’s desk. Pete spots a sandwich, a pear, and two chocolate chip cookies, and takes the sandwich. He sits down on the couch that somehow manages to fit into an office as small as this and keeps his smile bright while looking up at Patrick.

“Quick question.”

Patrick matches his gaze with Pete’s.

“Can I call you Lunchbox?”

~~~

It’s the start of a beautiful friendship, which is the way Pete always tells the story, because 1) it makes Patrick blush and smile and act cute as fuck, and 2) okay, maybe it makes Pete a little extra happy whenever he tells it. He forces himself to forget the start of it as much as he possibly can—erasing every trace of princess, princess, princess, that engraved itself in his mind like an etching on a tombstone and exaggerating Patrick’s role by a tenfold just to bulk it up and make it seem more bombastic than it ever was. He loves to fluster Patrick, who took his sweet time in eventually warming up to Pete and only just a couple months ago let him call him Lunchbox. It’s progress, though, and Pete’ll take every chance he can get. Patrick’s too precious to let go.

It’s been a year since the incident, and Pete and Patrick are the closest friends in the entire school, excluding Ryan Ross and Spencer Smith, because those two have been there for each other since kindergarten and are impossible to live up to. Pete still gets angry when other Cashes get their way, and Patrick still stutters when he’s talking to people that aren’t nice teachers or Pete, but they have each other and even a lunch table now, even though they usually still stick to an art department office or Pete’s hiding spot in the library, or even that tree next to the door of the gym outside that has low but strong branches that they sometimes stay up on for an hour after school.

As seniors, Pete and Patrick have more advantages than before: for instance, instead of that boring-ass required computers class from last year (which Pete never understood, by the way—why try to teach students how to use computers when half the faculty doesn’t know how to close a Word document?), they can take an extra arts course. Mr. Way’s pretty cool, and so is Mr. Iero—he has tattoos and piercings and can style his hair without looking like Pete does in the morning. Life’s looking up, for once. Yeah, there’s an occasional bump in the road, but it’s nothing Pete and Patrick can’t do together.

Then they meet Mikey Way.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like an hour it was rushed ik ok just please i survive off of kudos and ESPECIALLY comments thank you so much, also if u wanna talk about what a fucking bop after laughter is please comment bc i am sh00k hayley williams owns my soul
> 
> in the next chapter, we discuss how much i love pete wentz's purple wave fishnet shirt wearing ass and the Effects of a Specific Mikey Way on Certain High School Students in the Suburbs


End file.
